Thanks to TBS’s late night/early morning Sex and the City reruns, I have become very familiar with the show. What I’ve also become familiar with? The unique and never-changing style of Carrie Bradshaw’s columns. Observe.
Facebook. There comes a time in every girl’s life she must face the inevitable- her first wrinkle, her first grey hair, and the pressure to join a social networking site. Eventually, we must all cave in.
That day came for me this week while I was in Barney’s with Samantha. While purchasing a pair of zebra pumps that would turn any man into an animal, I mentioned that my face was not on Facebook, and my bagging turned to nagging. After much convincing, Samantha set up a profile for me.
Although I have seen most of my acquaintances in the buff, and I have certainly seen my share of online porn, when I finally decided to face Facebook, I was shocked to see people so exposed on the internet. Is Facebook just a lookbook- but instead of fashion, it lets us view this season’s collection of personal lives? I knew who I needed to consult- Miranda.
Miranda, cynical over Cinnabuns, had a Facebook-phobia of her own. As she and I shared a bun, Miranda shared that she did not want to share her personal information.
When I got home, I had a friend request from Keith Major- in high school, Keith was a major pain in my backside, but now, it seemed he had a major growth in his backside. I wondered- should I add him? By clicking ‘accept,’ instead of ‘reject,’ was I accepting his rejection of my feelings? By requesting my friendship, is he saying he already considered me a friend, or wanted me to become his friend? Does a Facebook friend have to be your friend? I needed a second opinion.
While noshing at Nobu with Charlotte, I mentioned my dilemma. A former art dealer and an admirer of DaVinci, Charlotte had her own Code. According to the York-Goldenblatt golden rulebook, hitting “reject” is simply rude. Charlotte insisted I add Keith to my network. I did. When I got home, full of edamame and enlightenment, I clicked his profile. At first I felt dirty, like a citizen accidentally given Top Secret files, but then, like the time I accidentally obtained the Givenchy catalog a month early, I couldn’t help but snoop.
It seems that Keith, who was so cool in the ’80s he was possibly the first member to wear a Members Only jacket, now kills yellowjackets- in an exterminator’s jacket. I learned that he is a divorced father of two, and, while he lost ninety percent of his hair, he gained ninety pounds on his body. I read the wall posts from his furious ex-wife and sifted through pictures of him at the 27th Annual Crossword Puzzle Tournament- and, just as he now kills pests, the thought of Keith as a pest was now killed.
And that’s when it hit me- Facebook is the cyber equivalent of a 10 year reunion- but, instead of free cocktails and awkward handshakes, we share Farmville gifts and shameless pokes. And, after my sophomore Sociology sweetheart- who dumped me on a staircase, leaving me with a broken heart and a broken stiletto- left me a photo comment, I relaxed. We were reuinited… and it felt so good.